Each A Glimpse
by The Kapok Kid
Summary: Poetry and prose drabble collection. Various characters and pairings. Currently: The Kneazle Question - James/Lily: "A soft mewling emanated from Lily's breast." COMPLETE.
1. Coffee And Green Tea - Sirius

Coffee And Green Tea

**Author's note:** _This is my first Harry Potter fan fiction. Any constructive criticism and reviews are much appreciated._

**Disclaimer:**_ Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I own nothing._

_Written for __**A Drabble a day keeps the doctor away challenge **__by__** Bamberrr.x**_

**Character: **_Sirius Black_

* * *

"Mmm…" Sirius took another whiff of the Amortentia they had brewed for Potions and sighed blissfully, grey eyes glazing over.

"What do you smell then, Pads?" Remus looked expectantly at his friend, quill poised over his parchment to record the results.

"April showers, apple tart, broomstick wood – Pine, I think…"

"And?"

"Wet dog" said Sirius, scowling mildly as Remus gave out a snort of laughter.

"That's expected, anyway. There is something else as well, is there not? You don't usually look so exalted on account of apple tarts or broomsticks, mate." Remus quirked one eyebrow, and studied Sirius closely.

Sirius hesitated. "Umm…coffee and – and green tea perfume?"

"Ah." Remus' smile was wicked. "Any idea who that might be?"

Sirius made a noncommittal sound and turned to his own parchment. He watched out of the corner of his eye as four places down the house table, Marlene poured milk into her coffee and stirred it delicately with a silver spoon.


	2. Weasley Is Our Prince - Ron

Weasley Is Our Prince

_Written for __**A Drabble a day keeps the doctor away challenge **__by__** Bamberrr.x**_

**Character: **_Ron Weasley_

* * *

Hugo Weasley stared at the chess board before him, fierce lines of concentration cutting into his forehead. A pink tongue darted out to moisten dry lips as he deliberately ordered his queen three squares to the left.

"Checkmate!" Hugo cried, raising triumphant blue eyes to meet Ron's own.

"Well done mate, that was fantastic! "Ron tousled Hugo's red hair and grinned at him. "Gryffindor must win next year; otherwise McGonagall will do her nut! Now, what about a bit of flying before bed?"

"I – I'd rather play another round, Dad." Hugo's eyes were wide with anxiety.

"Of course we can". Ron smiled and set up the board once more, suppressing a sigh.

Hugo had never been interested in flying, despite Ron's best efforts. It was Rose who had inherited his love of Quidditch, alongside her mother's intelligence. It worried Ron occasionally, but today he pushed the niggling thoughts aside. _I can always play chess with him_ Ron thought. _Flying doesn't matter – he'll always be my little prince._


	3. Better Wizards Than You - Moody

Better Wizards Than You - _Moody_

_Written for __**A Drabble a day keeps the doctor away challenge **__by__** Bamberrr.x**_

**Character: **_Alastor Moody_

* * *

Moody growled in satisfaction as thin silver cords sprang from his wand and wrapped themselves tightly around Evan Rosier. Scrimgeour and Robards immediately sprang forward and roughly manoeuvred the prisoner to his feet, ignoring the stream of invective the young Death Eater hurled at them. They had not moved but three paces forward before Rosier freed himself of the bonds and blasted his two handlers aside with Stunners.

Rosier scrabbled for his wand, eyes crazed with anger, and turned to face Alastor Moody.

Thirty dizzying seconds later, Moody stood panting heavily, clutching what was left of his nose, blood dripping thickly between his fingers. The ground was heated and cracked, rivulets of blood dripped into the fissures and the remnants of Evan Rosier lay scattered everywhere.

Moody grunted, stuck his still-sparking wand into his back pocket and disapparated.

It was five minutes later at the emergency medical station that he felt a dull throbbing in his rear and looked behind him. His left buttock was missing.


	4. Thou And I Are Too Wise - The Marauders

Thou And I Are Too Wise To Woo Peaceably - So Others Must Do It For Us

_Written for:_

_**A Drabble a day keeps the doctor away challenge **__by__** Bamberrr.x **_

_**Inspiration-by-Shakespeare challenge **__by__** Gamma Orionis – **__Much Ado About Nothing-someone setting someone else up._

_This turned out to be significantly longer than I expected. _

**Characters: **_The Marauders_

* * *

"So got that, Pete? We'll write Mary a note, saying that if she goes to the muggle section of the library on Thursday evening, she can find her true love sitting among the poets of yore, entrenched in the wisdom of centuries past!" Sirius poked Peter in the shoulder.

"Yes, Padfoot" Peter muttered. Sirius was going through a dramatic phase, and Peter was beginning to tire of the incessant declarations that followed him everywhere.

"Besides, Padfoot, how do you know that Mary really likes Moony? And what do you know about muggle literature, anyway?"

"Hey, I read!" Sirius looked offended. "I've been looking at those books Moony likes – Shakeseer and Byron and whatnot. And I told you, I heard Mary telling Marlene and Lily that she thinks he's adorable. Mary likes to read too – it'll be perfect!" Sirius grinned.

"Anyway" he continued "are you in, or not? If you aren't, I'll wait until Prongs gets out of the hospital wing."

"I'm in, I'm in!" Peter squeaked. The bludger that had put James in the hospital wing with a fractured foot had been an ill wind that did Peter some good – he had been promoted to chief prankster alongside Sirius for three days. He didn't want to lose that position now.

The plan worked perfectly.

The note was written – devoid of Sirius' embellishments – and slipped into Mary's bag the next morning. Sirius and Peter watched her eyes light up as she discovered it at lunch.

On Thursday evening at the library, Remus was buried in _Much Ado About Nothing_. Sirius had recently taken to accompanying him, reading some of the soliloquies and sonnets aloud with many flourishes. Today he was missing. Remus didn't really mind; he enjoyed the peace.

Two heads poked furtively out from behind a bookshelf several feet away.

"She's coming!" Peter squeaked loudly, and was promptly squashed by Sirius. They watched as Mary MacDonald walked hesitantly to Remus' table. He smiled, his brown eyes warm, and gestured to the seat next to him.

Mary's eyes widened as she saw the title on Remus' book. "That's my favourite play!" she blurted out, and then flushed as Remus looked up. They struck up a conversation after that; halting at first, but growing more comfortable as they delved deeper into the plot.

"Hello!" exclaimed a cheerful voice behind Peter. Sirius and Peter spun around to find James regarding them curiously. His left foot was still bandaged, but he looked fine otherwise. "What's going on?"

"We're trying to get Moony and Mary together" Peter explained. "He likes her, and they both like reading so Padfoot says it's going to work. Look – they're talking now, I bet he'll ask-"

"They're talking about Spadeseer – that playwright. That's not exactly asking her out!" James cut Peter off mid-flow.

Remus and Mary continued to debate on the finer points of Beatrice's and Benedick's courting, blissfully unaware of the trio watching them.

"_Of course_ he'll ask her out. Just needs a little bit of time. And it's _Shakeseer_, James, _not_ Spadeseer" Sirius said, in the voice of one All-Knowing. "I've read these things, you know. He didn't only write plays". Sirius' eyes had a fervent expression. "He wrote these beautiful poems called sonnets, all about love and the summer you know, and that is why he is also known as The Barf."


	5. Tendrils - Petunia

Tendrils

_Written for __**A Drabble a day keeps the doctor away challenge **__by__** Bamberrr.x**_

_**Many thanks to Viren96 for the reviews!**_

**Characters: **_Petunia Evans Dursley_

* * *

She watches the other girl as a hunter watches a tiger; carefully, deliberately, and with no insignificant amount of fear.

She does not understand it the first time it happens. She sits on the floor, playing with her dolls, when the rattle falls off the toddler's cot and lands beside her. She turns to pick it up, but watches instead as it zooms upwards through the railings of the bed, back into her sister's hand. She gazes open-mouthed at the red-haired child now sucking the rattle, then shrugs and turns back to her dolls.

Petunia is seven the second time it happens. Five year old Lily has turned her old black hair slides purple, to match the new dress their mother has bought her for Evensong this New Year. Petunia tries hard, alone in her room after the service, staring at her own red hair slide hard enough to hurt her eyes. The plastic slide does not change; seeming to mock her in its crimson lustre. The first seed is thus planted.

The seed grows slowly throughout the years, sprouting tendrils with each new incident; the empty pen that refills itself, the flower petals that change colour, the window mobile that tinkles when the breeze is absent. The culmination occurs when the greasy-haired boy drops the tree branch on her shoulder. Sniffling as her mother gently tends her bruised collarbone, she vows to have nothing more to do with the _freak._

The letter from the old man is gentle, regretful. She knows not if she is ashamed, or enraged, or both. Her pale eyes take in the cloaked men and women on the platform, the owls, the cats and the broomsticks; a world in which she has no part. _Abnormal_, she thinks, and the first blossom sprouts on the tree.

She watches as the boy with the thick spectacles and laughing hazel eyes carries her sister away in burst of purple fairy dust. She screams when the infant is found on her doorstep and later watches with jaundiced and not unfearful eyes as the boy grows, thin and starved and unloved. Her heart beats faster each time she locks him in his cupboard, unacknowledging of his protests, wholly aware of his innocence. And thus the tree bore its first fruit.

It is when Dudley shakes the boy's hand that the first autumn occurs. Years later, when she sees her son grown, with children of his own; when a Christmas card arrives from the boy; when the boy himself arrives one day; when she sees the small red-haired girl clutch at her father's arm, reminiscent of another like her so many years ago, does she realise that the tree has finally withered, and died.

_The first seed and its sprouts of envy were born,_

_It bore me a harvest of thistle and thorn._


	6. A Stitch In Time - Alicia

A Stitch In Time

_Written for:_

_**A Drabble a day keeps the doctor away challenge**__by__** Bamberrr.x.**_

_**The Worlds Challenge **__by__** TrisanaChandler13 – **__Dragon Slippers – Write about Madam Malkin's. _

**Character: **_Alicia Spinnet._

* * *

Alicia Spinnet paused outside Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. A notice pinned to the large clear window caught her eye. _WANTED: Designers for all forms of witch and wizardwear, _it said_._ _Applicants with a background in fashion design or art preferred. Must be able to work exclusively for us. Apply within for spot-interviews. Immediate hire. _Alicia considered the notice for a moment, nibbling her lower lip as she reread it, then exhaled, shrugged her shoulders, pushed open the door and stepped inside.

A bell jangled in the depths of the shop as she stepped over the threshold. A young witch in pale blue robes emerged from behind a behind a screen and stared at Alicia. "Yes?" she inquired coolly.

"I…I'm here for an interview for the position advertised in the window," Alicia answered; feeling slightly intimidated as she took in the other girl's raised eyebrow and turned-down lips.

"Wait here," Blue-robes said, and disappeared into the back of the shop. Alicia stared around the shop as she waited. She had come in every year to purchase her Hogwarts robes, but in the rush of finishing off here and going to buy the rest of the things on the booklists, she had never paid much attention to the surroundings. The shop was large and well-lit, and divided into sections according to the clothing it housed. Immediately past the entrance was the school section, with a low platform on which stood stools for the students to stand and be measured. Next was the Quidditch section, with racks of regular Quidditch robes, and those designed similarly to the kits of the various League teams. Beyond this area was the rest of the shop – ladies' and gentlemen's wear – but it was too far away for Alicia to see from where she stood.

She was brought out of her survey of the shop by the appearance of Madam Malkin – who had thankfully left Blue-robes behind – and smiled as the lady bustled towards her.

"Name?" asked Madam Malkin, looking Alicia up and down, a slight frown creasing her brows.

"Alicia Spinnet, Hogwarts, 1996,"Alicia smiled. Madam Malkin seemed pleased with what she saw, for she turned and led the way to a desk in the corner of the shop, and gestured Alicia to a seat in front of her.

"What is your experience with fashion, Miss. Spinnet?" Madam Malkin asked once Alicia was comfortably settled, and had filled out the form that was set down before her. "Do you have any training in this field?"

"I started at the Glasgow Witches' Institute of Fashion in 1997, a year after I left Hogwarts, and finished my training two years ago."

Madam Malkin raised an eyebrow and peered at Alicia rather severely over her spectacles. "The usual period of training is three years, young woman. Why did you take an extra year?"

"I came back to fight in the battle of Hogwarts, Madam. After that, I took a few months off to help Professor McGonagall refurbish the castle and get it ready for the next batch of students."

"Ah yes, indeed, indeed." Madam Malkin's eyes softened slightly the girl's answer. It had taken the better part of three months to set the building to rights, and even longer to organise admission for the next lot of students. The trust fund for students who could not afford equipment and clothing had all but vanished, so Madam Malkin had undertaken to provide school robes for such students free of charge until the fund could be rebuilt.

Madam Malkin then returned to the form Alicia had filled. "You have ten NEWTs; with excellent marks in Transfiguration, Charms and Ancient Runes, didn't you wish to join the Ministry at any point after you left Hogwarts?"

"Not at all," Alicia answered frankly. "I enjoyed the subjects, of course, but I what I really wanted to study was design." She hesitated, and then added, "I applied for a job at Madame Pierre's Boutique in Valros, just after graduation, but they said I lacked the necessary experience."

"Hmm…and what have you been doing with yourself these two years?"

"I've been working as a freelance fashion journalist, Madam. I also send in a few designs for owl-order businesses. It doesn't pay much, but it was enough to keep myself," she said honestly.

The corners of Madam Malkin's mouth twitched upwards in a slight smile at this. She had noticed the shabby shoes and much worn but well-kept casual robes Alicia was wearing. With a flick her wand, she summoned a white satin robe on a mannequin nearby, and held it out to Alicia. "Your design capabilities seem satisfactory, but skills of execution are just as necessary. Take this robe and this pattern, and let me see what you can do with it."

Alicia took the robe and the proffered design sheet, and stared at it for a few moments with a lowered brow. She then smiled, and with several wordless and complicated movements of her wand, charmed three swirls of blue and purple onto the robe, and added a pattern of black veined autumn leaves on the sleeves.

Madam Malkin looked duly impressed, and a true smile broke out on her face. "Well done, m'dear," she said genially, offering Alicia her hand. "The position is yours if you want it. You'd like to start right away, I suppose?"

Alicia murmured her thanks as she was led away in a flurry of lilac robes to the back of the shop, to where the racks and tables with party and formal robes were housed. Blue-robes gave a sniff and looked haughtily down her nose as Alicia joined her at her table, and Alicia felt her lips twitch upwards in a wry smile.

The other assistant – a tall young man with a smattering of freckles across his nose – caught the exchange and winked at Alicia, curling the tip of his nose in imitation of Blue-robes.

Alicia grinned at him before turning her attention to the flimsy muslin robes Madam Malkin thrust under her nose. Yes, thought Alicia as she began to work patterns on her cloth, it was not the glamorous career in a boutique she had envisioned, but it was not a bad start at all. In fact, she decided, it was rather good.

* * *

_The first chapter of my other Harry Potter story, **Esto Perpetua**, is up now. If you like the Marauders, you might like to check it out :)_


	7. Norberta Norbertson - Charlie

Norberta Norbertson

_Written for:_

_**A Drabble a day keeps the doctor away challenge **__by__** Bamberrr.x.**_

_**The Worlds Challenge **__by__** TrisanaChandler13 – **__Pern – Write about Dragons._

**Character: **_Charlie Weasley._

* * *

There was a scuffling at the door, followed by a sharp knock. Charlie Weasley let out a sigh as he dropped his quill onto the reports on his desk, opened the door and stood back as his two friends – looking extremely wet and wild – stumbled inside, carrying a large box between them.

"Ve haff the dragon vith us," panted Hilarian as he helped his mate deposit the box on the large table that had been prepared for it by the fire. "Your brother Ron could not meet us at the tower because he vas in the 'ospital ving, but his friend Harry vas there vith the fellow."

"How did he behave on the flight home?" Charlie asked, interestedly surveying the box which looked quite the worse for wear, with several tiny holes on the top, a large tear on one side, and tendrils of smoke curling up from beneath the lid.

"He is a feisty one," Horia, Hilarian's companion replied, as he helped Charlie and Valerian to disassemble the box, and free the baby inside. "They said his name vas Norbert – it is a very odd name to giff to a dragon, I think."

The men watched warily and quietly as the last flap fell off with a thunk, to reveal a small, scaly, slightly crumpled brown and black form. Beady black eyes looked around curiously. Charlie jumped back as a tiny spurt of fire shot out of the baby dragon's nostrils. Bits of fluff and cotton, which were obviously the remains of a teddy bear rolled off his back and fell in a heap around his wings.

"He's a bit vicious, isn't he?" piped up a new voice, and the fourth occupant of the room, who had been watching the proceedings from afar, stepped forward to look at Norbert. "I didn't think such a tiny fellow could demolish a stuffed toy so quickly."

"Careful," cautioned Charlie, as the aforementioned occupant, his new assistant – a pimply, shock-headed youth of eighteen, nicknamed "Junior" for no apparent reason – held out a small bowl of brandy and chicken blood to the tiny dragon.

Norbert sniffed it suspiciously for a moment, and then began to lap up the concoction thirstily, wriggling his wings with enthusiasm.

"It's a girl!" Junior said suddenly. He was watching the dragon closely.

"What?"

"Norbert isn't a boy, she's a female." Charlie stared, following Junior's pointing finger. Sure enough, as the dragon moved, a tiny teat came into view on her underbelly. Charlie groaned.

"Brilliant now. He turns out to be a She. Hagrid should have checked properly before he sent her on here," Charlie grumbled. "We'll have to change her name, too. But she only answers to Norbert now, what are we supposed to do?"

"Ve can call her Norberta," Horia supplied. "It is close enough to Norbert, and she vould not notice the difference."

"Yeah! That's right – Norberta Norbertson!" Junior exclaimed, beaming. He then warily held out his hand to her. The newly christened dragon raised her head and snuffled into Junior's palm. She obviously approved of her new name.

Charlie snorted.


	8. The Homecoming - Sirius

The Homecoming

_Written for:_

_**The Worlds Challenge **__by__** Trisanachandler13: **__Incarceron – Write about Sirius Black._

_**A Drabble a day keeps the doctor away challenge **__by__** Bamberrr.x**_

_**The Star Challenge **__by__** ohmoony:**_ _Sirius - The Brightest Star in the Sky: Write about Sirius Black._

_**Character:**__ Sirius Black_

* * *

It feels soft, silky; weightless, almost. The sounds on the other side of the veil are distant and vague. He worries for a moment when he can't hear Harry's voice, or Remus' any longer, but then, he realises.

_He's dead._

Odd, that. Being killed by drapery wasn't on his top ten list of Ways To Kick The Bucket.

He whips his head around at the sound of footsteps echoing hollowly just outside this - what is this - room? hall? - and almost topples back through the veil when he sees the entrant.

"You!"

"Hello, Sirius," Regulus says.

Jaw slack, thoroughly bamboozled, he can only stare at his younger brother. Regulus seems to find this amusing, and raises an eye brow in that maddening way he has, the prat.

"But…but I thought you were a Death Eater…"

"_Were_ being the main point here. I switched sides and even nicked one of the Dark Lord's horcruxes - oh I forgot, you don't know about them - nevermind, well, anyway, here I am. Come on, now, they're waiting to see you."

"Who's waiting to see me?"

"You'll find out soon enough," Regulus says, and takes hold of his brother's arm, and tugs him out of the room, through a set of French windows - when did those appear? - and into a large, sunny garden.

There's a large chestnut tree near a stream and it even has a hammock slung low, just like the one in Potter Manor, and there are two figures walking towards him. He's able to make out fiery red hair as they come nearer-

And a messy-haired, hazel-eyed, bespectacled boy flings himself onto him, and hugs him tight.

Warmth pools in his belly as he looks at Lily, beaming radiantly, Reg, his baby brother, also grinning, and James, who still has him by the arms-

"Welcome home, Padfoot," James says simply.


	9. Moonset - The Marauders

Moonset - Freeverse

_Written for: _

_**A Drabble a day keeps the doctor away challenge **__by__** Bamberrr.x.**_

_**The Worlds Challenge **__by__** TrisanaChandler13:**__ Narak - Write a freeverse poem about a particular theme – Togetherness._

_**The Star Challenge **__by__** ohmoony:**__ Capelle - Write about the Marauders._

* * *

Tangled, in the dusty drapes, lithe limbs all akimbo,

Pockmarked, freckled, scarred, scraped and bruised,

Sweat pooled in collar-hollows, dripping in rivulets,

Brows, pale, fever-moist, lips parched, hot, dry breath,

Hair scattered; black and brown, damp, dank and lank,

Four forms, unformed, gawky, gangly, unfinished,

Sinew, flesh on bone, twitches, turns, murmurs -

An exercise in haphazard grace,

In oblivion.

**_-o-_**

Beyond the ballast, the pale moon fades,

The darkest night does turn to grey,

The bleak fresh morn; the light, a heralder,

A stirring of the quiescent dreams,

Mumbles, murmurs, wriggles and writhes,

The dawn of conscious, eyes; brown, blue, grey,

Boy-limbs, unfurled; as though a bud from slumber,

Unforeseen elegance, unheralded delicacy,

The marionette of a master puppeteer.

**_-o-_**

Three forms awaken; softly stir, the last lies nestled, unaware,

Honey-brown tendrils, play-sped heart, dew-kissed brows,

Sleep-heavy limbs, flushed red; a rose-bed of scars, knitting grazes,

Dry, howl-weary lips, soft moans, a twitch of tenuous fingertips,

Sleepy mumbles, a slow-growing ache,

Conscious hovers on the edge; at last he awakens,

Four forms now, youth-bright gazes, clumsy, boyish hands,

A reassurance, a promise; slow, glowing warmth,

A moment, at dawn,

At Moonset.


	10. Interrupted - Godric's Hollow, 1981

Interrupted

_Written for:_

_**The Worlds Challenge **__by __**TrisanaChandler13:**__ Panem – Write about losing loved ones._

_**The Het-pairings Boot Camp **__by__** reminiscent-afterthought:**__ Time.  
_

_**The Poetry Boot Camp **__by__** QuietConspiracy:**__ Green._

_**The Star Challenge**__ by __**ohmoony:**__ Adara - Write about Lily Evans._

_Pairing: Lily/James._

* * *

The old cottage in ruins lies,

Roof rent in half, walls blown apart,

Cracks snaking thither, ribbon-like,

And plaster-white, crumbling into infinity.

_**-o-**_

Scorch marks impressed on the pristine floor,

Marks of a battle, well-fought, but lost,

In this fight, there is no gain,

This destroyed home, a prison-house of pain.

_**-o-**_

In the hall, at the foot of the stairs he lies,

Face serene and calm, carved of marble pale,

A noble warrior, defender, brave beyond this mortal age,

No more a boy, but a conqueror of death's dread veil.

_**-o-**_

And upstairs, at the foot of the cradle she rests,

A halo of red, fitting crown for a spirited queen,

Green eyes, still filled of wonder, of love,

Ode to a mother's sacrificial rites.

_**-o-**_

Dusk is falling, but time stands still,

For one eternity, the world has ceased to spin,

No breath is drawn, no soft sigh lingers,

The frail thread of life snaps and disappears.

**_-o-_**

Outside the walls, time is still fleet,

People are rejoicing in the street,

None see the pall cast down its sheet,

And cover this home from head to feet.

_**-o-**_

Life, half-done, has left its mark,

Pies in the oven, in the kettle some tea,

A lamp in the nursery still dispels the dark,

Shining on drawings of hill, valley and sea.

**_-o-_**

The shutters are drawn, tis doom that prevails,

While from his cradle, the baby wails.


	11. Felicity - JamesLily

Felicity

_**The Stratified Agate Competition **__by__** Lamia of the Dark:**__ Level 1, 100-200 word drabble._

_**Het-Pairings Bootcamp:**__ Wind_

_James/Lily_

_188 words._

* * *

You thought there was no higher felicity than the firm grip of the wood beneath your hands, the summer breezes whipping through your hair, and the ever-present thrill that tickles your spine and your fingertips with the anticipation of the Quaffle coming your way. No, indeed there was nothing equal to the roar of the crowd, miniscule ants below you, as you manoeuvred your way past the beaters, bypassed the keeper, and made yet another successful goal.

But suddenly, you discovered how wrong you were.

It was not the terrifying fall from grace, painful and abrupt, that you expected.

Instead, it was a slow-burning feeling of warmth, a delicious tickle that blossomed in your heart and crept outward, lapping at your mind and soul all the while. It was the start of something beautiful, though you did not know this then. The red hair, dancing in the wind as though they were flames aspiring to reach the chimney top; that smile, straight from her soul that spoke so intimately to your own, the eyes, breathtaking in their frankness and joy.

This, then was real felicity. This was heaven.


	12. Immortality - Teddy

Immortality.

Written for:

_**The Worlds Challenge**__ by __**TrisanaChandler13:**__ Age of Five – Write about a quest for immortality._

_**The Poetry of Flashy Colours Challenge**__ by __**reminiscent-afterthought:**__ Prose poetry._

* * *

There is something irresistible in the sound of this silence.

Teddy breathes it in like a drug; feels its heady intoxication permeate his pores and run, ticklish and lightning-fleet, across the sinuous nerves entwined around his heart. Teddy drinks it in like a nectar; and savours each drop as it bathes the hungry crevices of his soul.

But it is not silence at all.

There is a state that falls between words and silence, a state of being unutterable, indefinable, intangible in its physicality, for it bears no mortal form and exists only in the spirit. It lies, dormant but-ever present in every archway and buttress of this old house, in every bower and in the dancing streams around these woods, in every wind that blows over this land. It lies in his very veins, in the pools and hollows of his stomach, the cavities of his heart.

It lies dormant, but ready, ever alert for his call, and comes whenever he should have need. This spirit-essence of his father, all things loving, and kindly and fair and just, beautiful and fragile; and terrible in its strength. Ribbons of the heart-soul of his mother, all things bright and sparkling and alive and vibrant, courage and nobility above the human plight; an eternal, enduring grace.

It is life.

Life surrounds him, marks him, completes him, vibrates in every atom of his body, fills and fulfils the chambers of his soul, stitches him together.

Father and Mother, they stand beside him, invisible, ethereal shadows, they dwell inside him, an infinite bubbling font.

And thus is he made immortal, three parts life, and three parts soul.


	13. Into The Fire - JamesLily

Into The Fire

_**The Stratified Agate Competition**__ by __**Lamia of the Dark: **__Level I – a non-rhyming poem._

_James' address to Lily._

* * *

From fire to fire, my fighter-lass,

Let flames of auburn and emerald burn

Behind your eyes, at the ends of your smile,

And dance, merrily on your fingertips.

Lock out this harsh, unyielding world,

And stir up the embers of courage,

Take up your shield, my warrior-sweet,

And thrust your sword into the fire.


	14. Dragons - James Potter

Dragons

Charlus Potter found he couldn't move his legs. He looked down to find two thin arms wrapped around his thighs, and chubby cheeks hidden in the velvet folds of his robes. With a heavy sigh he bent down, and began to disentangle the small hands from the iron grip they had formed upon the cloth. "Jamie," he said softly, "Daddy has to go to work now."

"Don't want you to go." A voice emerged from the depths of his left pocket.

"I have to go, darling. I would take you with me if I could, but then who's going to stay here and look after Mummy?"

One hazel eye peeped out. And then blinked. "You want me to stay here so I can look after Mummy?"

"Of course," Charlus assured his son. "Otherwise, who's going to save her from the big bad dragons that come galumphing along the corridors and sneak into the kitchen by the light of the moon - er beg pardon, the sun - and steal biscuits from right under her nose, eh?"

There was a giggle, and this time Charlus was rewarded by the sight of a messy head finally emerging from his robes. "But...but I heard Mummy say she was _perfeckly capabill_ of lookin' after herself yesterday," James said, frowning.

Charlus sighed. It had been too much to expect such a child as James to take his words at face value. "Your Mummy can protect herself from lots of things," he said, "but for those tiresome dragons, she needs _you._"

James nodded solemnly. "Okay, I'll stay here if you really want," he said, and turned those clear eyes on Charlus. "But what about you, Daddy? Who's going to look after you?"

Charlus cleared his throat hastily, trying to dislodge the lump that he suddenly felt there. It would not budge, so he spoke around it: "I can look after myself, Jamie. I'm not afraid of dragons. There are people - other people, who need my help more."

"Are dragons after them, too?"

"Not dragons but people...wicked people are after them."

"Why?" The small eyes shone with frank curiosity.

"Well, Jamie, there are some wizards who have Muggle parents, and these wicked people don't like it. They think magic shouldn't be used by people who have Muggles in their families."

"That's silly," James decided, after a moment's intense introspection. "They must be scared of Muggles then, an' that's stupid, because there's nothing to be scared about!"

Charlus chuckled. "I think you may have a very good point there, Jamie."

"One day I'll come with you and help to protect them too," James announced.

Charlus reached out and ran a slim-fingered hand over the wild black locks on his son's head. "I would be honoured," he said softly.


	15. Torn - JamesLily

Torn

_**The Worlds Challenge**__ by __**TrisanaChandler13:**__ Jah Keved – write about broken people._

* * *

It is the fifth time this month, and Lily decides that this is enough.

Autumn never sits well with her. It collects in the hollows of her stomach and throat and fills them with dust and decay. It is stifling, and every breath is an age of agony.

James does not do well in autumn either. He is eighteen years old and rotting from the inside out.

Lily wonders when it started. When childish arrogance and schoolboy bullying descended into cruelty. And such a one that adds disgust to decay, for he indulges in such refined forms of cruelty, wrought with skill and care. Bile surges up her throat when she considers him.

He comes to her this evening, hands red with the blood of humans, and soul a deeper crimson still. She knows her own is an echo of his.

She tells him that she is leaving.

There is the merest flicker of regret, a shadow of hurt across his face. A stoical shrug is all that follows; they both know they are too far gone for the saving.

Broken people.

Goodbye, she says.

Goodbye, he says.

Lily turns and leaves and wishes that the autumn would suffocate her.


	16. The Kneazle Question - JamesLily

The Kneazle Question

A soft mewling emanated from Lily's breast.

James blinked. "What" - he began, but was interrupted by Lily, who threw open her cloak - rather grandiosely - and proudly displayed three tiny, ginger Kneazles cuddled against her bosom.

"Aren't they just perfect?" Lily beamed, and thrust one of them into James' arms.

James blinked again. Perfect wasn't his word of choice. The kittens were wet, bedraggled and looked distinctly grumpy. "Hmm," he murmured noncommittally.

"Won't it be fun to keep them, James?" Lily asked. "Here, baby, come to Mummy." She reached out and took the kitten back. He immediately nestled against her shoulder.

James frowned. "Are you sure you want to keep them, Lily? They're quite boisterous, you know, and on top of you being pregnant and all..." He himself wasn't overfond of the feline persuasion, and Merlin only knew what Padfoot or Moony would say when they found out he'd been enlisted as Daddy to cats, and Wormtail wouldn't even sight the place...

One kitten reached out a paw and batted James playfully on the arm. Lily smiled. "Oh see - they already love you!" She smiled up at James, but upon seeing his unconvinced expression, her smile dropped.

She nodded out towards the window, where a violent flurry of snow was hitting the window panes, letting splatters of water trickle down the glass. "It's freezing outside," she said quietly. "I found them in a box under a hedge. The mother was already dead, and the poor things were half-frozen. We have a comfortable and warm home, why cannot we share it with them?"

She turned big, doe eyes on him, and James sighed. He'd never been able to refuse her anything. "All right," he agreed, and kissed her lightly. "But _you're_ cleaning out the litter boxes."


End file.
